Sack of Rome
by Orpah
Summary: What would have happened if there was no ship?


Yes, I've never written in this fandom before, but like so many of my fellow _Lord of the Flies_ fanfic writers, I had it for school and I was inspired. It is a beautiful book and if you haven't read it (what are you doing here?), you should read it. Anyway, I know my writing is not nearly as good as Golding's, nor is it in the same style, but I hope you'll like it anyway!

Warning: This story is pretty dark, which should come as no major surprise, really.

I don't own Lord of the Flies! end /AN/

Ralph staggered to his feet on the warm sand of the beach, seeing the flames lick up the trees but not really noticing. What he was looking for was death in human form, the form of little boys once so accustomed to civility and manners. As the ululation sounded, much too close, the savages burst out of the jungle, teeth showing like animals fangs.

Ralph screamed, stumbling backwards, trying to keep distance between himself and the brutes. Any hope of this being a sick game died in his mind, seeing the killing intent in their eyes. "Mercy! Mercy!" he cried, arms up to defend himself as the first spear was thrown at him.

This time, it missed, finding its home not in his warm gut, but in the sand. But there was no time, there was no time! No options but to beg! They circled around him, and Ralph bashed against one, like a desperate, cornered animal, trying to get out of the circle. He was pushed back, violently, in the center.

"_Kill the Beast! Cut his throat! Spill his blood!_" Came the chant, and Ralph was practically foaming at the mouth as they closed in, spears jabbing, but he couldn't feel it, lashing out blindly and screaming, he was suffocated on all sides, closed in by his executors. Wild eyes, not the eyes of children, were all around him, piercing as much as the wooden shafts. A face, which might have formerly belonged to a friend, was finally found by his fingers, and he clawed it, causing a break in the circle.

Ralph tore out, a spear sticking out of his side. His mind was overwhelmed by utter, base fear, but he found, even powered by the adrenaline, he could not get far. Falling onto his knees, he tried desperately to keep moving, but some injury had been done to his legs, and it was only a short matter of time until the savages surrounded him again, spears entering Ralph's body with a fury, as though he had done them a great injustice by clawing one of their own.

Ralph writhed, one arm pinned to the ground by a foot, the other flailing and jerking like a dying insect's. A hand gripped his hair, and as he screamed for mercy, Jack's knife found his throat, and after a few final shudders from his body, all went still.

There was silence, and the wet work of cutting his head off, and Jack raised it up high, a symbol of their triumphs, the burning island a powerful background. The savages cheered wildly, excluding two of them. Ralph's mouth hung open, his last scream still stuck in his throat. Sam promptly threw up, and Eric gripped his shoulders tightly, gagging in sympathy, even as Roger's dark eyes seemed to scan over in their direction. Unlike the night of the fatal dance, savagery was holding no appeal for them.

No one else noticed, too caught up in their cheering. Roger produced a spear, sharpened at both ends, and Jack fixed the head onto one end with the sickening sound of flesh giving way to wood. He then fixed the other end into the sand, to tumultous cries. Ralph, the hated one, had been vanquished.

"Take the body! We'll throw off the Castle Rock and into the sea!" Jack yelled, raising his spear to raise the savage delight in each boy's breast. However, there was suddenly a lack of volunteers, as the boys moved back and tried to push each other closer to the limp form. No one wanted to touch a dead, _human_ body.

"What are you, a bunch of wimps?" Jack snarled at the group, and then he began cursing as colorfully as he knew how. Still, not one foot came closer to the heap of flesh riddled with holes and tears. Jack glared, never seeming to decide who he really wanted to settle that smoldering gaze on, until his eyes reached Samneric. "You, pick him up and bring him back to camp."

Immediately, protests broke forth from their chapped lips.

"We can't! It's-"

"There's so much fire! There's-"

"-no way to get around it! And, and-"

"I'd never touch it! Never!"

Perhaps now had not been the time for a rebellious outburst, Samneric realised, as Jack's furious face and Roger's dark, glittering eyes both turned full force on them, combined with the unsympathetic stares of the other savages. But Jack turned away, looking towards the island, and finally seeming to see the huge pillar of smoke, and the fire it was issuing from. Then he turned on Samneric. "You can go around, on the beaches! Don't you dare say no to your chief!"

And with that, he swung his spear into Eric's head, leaving a bloody imprint, though he had not broken the skin. It stung, but in the face of Jack's burning wrath, which was clearly displayed on his face, Eric did not dare complain. He and Sam quickly shuffled forward, pure revulsion coming off them in waves as they came closer and closer to the body. If there was a beast on this island, they would rather face it than Jack, or more accurately, Roger.

Sam grabbed the ankles of the still-warm body, while Eric reluctantly grabbed the wrists. The blood was no longer gushing out of the neck as it had been, but as they lifted more came out in a small rush, and Sam looked as though he was going to lose whatever his stomach had retained.

It was slow work, moving a body, seeing as it was slightly bigger than either one of them were. Also, there was the issue that Eric did not want the dripping stump of a neck brushing up against him, which was nearly impossible to avoid. A squeamish groan escaped from his mouth every so often when it happened. It also did not help that all the boys were crowding around them, cheering and boasting of their own efforts in the slaying.

"Didya see me? I was right there, stabbing him-"

"I got him right in the stomach! I could see his guts when I pulled out my spear!"

"He tried to get away, but I stopped him! See, he scratched my face, but it didn't stop me!"

Jack was leading the group, but he wasn't looking back at them at all, continuing in his savagely graceful walk imperiously. Roger, however, was glancing back, but not at just anyone. Samneric could feel their skin crawl as his dark eyes momentarily bored into them. It was as though he could see into their hearts, see deep revulsion where everyone else ignored it. Ralph had been their leader, and even though they had revealed his hiding place and thus contributed to his death, it was clear they were mourning it, however silently they chose to do it.

As they came upon the rocks, coughing on the smoke from the blackened thicket below, Jack turned around, eyes burning with a savage desire neither Sam nor Eric could place.

"Come up here," he instructed, pointing to a high spot on Castle Rock. He swiftly outpaced them, making it there first and watching behind him impatiently. Sam and Eric picked up their pace, Eric's lower legs coated on the front with blood, like some sort of mark of his status.

As soon as they made it, they set down the body, rather relieved to be free of touching it. It was not Ralph's body anymore, it was just a disgusting thing that should be gotten rid of. Jack, however, thought of it differently, pointing out towards the waves crashing below. "Throw it down there," he commanded, voice reflecting that this was Ralph's final humiliation; his body would never be discovered nor buried.

Samneric each gripped an end, lifting the lifeless thing between them. It seemed as though it were a dark irony, that they, the only remaining boys with some feeling for Ralph, should be the ones to throw him right out of existence. However, with a heave, the corpse hit the water, being tossed around briefly before sinking forever into the depths.

Jack crowed, filled with savage glee at the deposition of his enemy. Not a thing stood between him and doing what he wanted on the island, and it would stay that way for a long time, if not forever. The acrid smoke blew in their direction, and the twins glanced at each in numb fear, as if to communicate their worry that this island would not be worth living on now.

/AN/ Well, I started this a long time ago, and if I don't have the time, then it'll probably stay a oneshot. But anyway, I hope you enjoyed it, and that my foray into another fandom wasn't completely a failure.


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